Eye of the Hawk
by Carolinagirl117
Summary: Clint Barton was lost when Phil Coulson found him. He was searching for the man who betrayed him and he vowed he'd never stop until he got his revenge. When the trail goes cold, Phil tries to keep Barton busy by training new agents and hunting bad guys. Then Coulson puts him on a case that Barton's not so sure he can come back from: finding the Black Widow.
1. Let It Go

Let it Go

**2008-**

Clint perched on the rooftop of a building, watching his target through the sight on his bow. The steady pouring of rain splashed on the brick under his boots, creating diminutive puddles in the uneven walling. Clouds covered the sky, but his excellent eyesight wasn't impaired. Wind whipped his jacket collar across his neck, and the soft crack of thunder above did nothing to distract him. People hurried on the streets below, trying to avoid the coming storm that threatened above.

A familiar presence from behind helped to calm the scorching fire within him and eased his fears of being alone. Out of the corner of his eye, red hair whipped wildly in the wind. He knew she would guard his back, no matter what it took. He took a deep breath, and as he released it he expelled all the thoughts from his mind. He drove out all his fears, his self-doubts, and anything that would keep him from completing his mission. After waiting twelve damn years he was finally going to kill the son of a bitch who betrayed him.

He paused mid-breath and listened to his heart beating in his chest at a steady rate. His hands moving in a rhythm well-perfected over the years, he drew the string on his beloved bow, adjusting his aim as the wind picked up speed. He looked back to his target and released the arrow. He knew it would reach the target, because the best killer was the one you never knew was coming.

_So this is the intro. I will post the first chapter tomorrow! :D hope you like it! It was Beta'd by Kathryn Hart and Sammysquatch67 helped with the title _


	2. Can't Stop Me

Can't Stop Me

**1998-**

Clint winced as the coffee scorched his tongue as he took a sip from his steaming mug. He didn't care that much though, he was freezing. It was the middle of December and Washington was _cold._ He thought about the reason why he was currently in this state_. _Why had he taken the job? He didn't know. He wasn't that desperate for money, but it always helped to keep a little extra set aside for a guy like him. A guy who didn't know where he'd be in a month or even know if he'd still be alive.

Clint strolled down the street, slipping past teens hooked to their phones, men dressed up for work and others that didn't seem to really be going anywhere. He walked unnoticed in the crowd, the years of blending in making him an easy guy to forget. He sighed as he felt snow drops trickle down and land in his messy blonde hair. He wished for the second time that day that he'd had a scarf or some sort of wool hat. He crossed the street, half-heartedly waving to the drivers in their cars and walked up the steps to his tiny apartment above a Chinese restaurant. It was cheap, had easy access to food and kept him warm at night. It was all he needed.

He walked over to his bed and sat down, staring at the wall. It was covered in pictures, maps and string. Lots of string. He had strung up important notes, dates, anything he could recall of that certain night. Surveillance pictures from ATM's, malls, even stoplight pictures hung up on his wall. In the center, the reason for all of this, was a man. Just one. Gary Pointer. Different color strings for different reasons. Blue was facts, things he knew about the man and red was for places Clint had followed him. Green helped to connect Pointer to other locations that we only a possible place the man could have been.

Clint followed the string, from one sighting to the next. He didn't know how Gary moved so quickly, guessing he had more than one person who wanted him dead. Clint smirked at the thought and flicked off the light switch, collapsing back onto his bed, and covered himself with a thin blanket.

He didn't know how, or when but one day he was going to kill that man and nothing was going to get in his way.

"Damnit."Clint cursed to himself as he lowered his aim from the target. Jacobi Dove was his target, a drug carrier who had been skimming off his boss for almost two months now. Drake, the boss, obviously wasn't an idiot. He had known someone was stealing from him and hired Clint to make a point. Clint didn't care why the target needed to be eliminated, he just wanted to get the hell out of Washington. The woman who had just walked into Dove's hotel suite dropped off the food and left before the scumbag could _charm_ her into staying. Clint repositioned his bow, glad for her exit, and began the habit ingrained into his system.

Lower the heart rate.

Take steady breaths.

Block everything but the target out.

He followed through with the pattern nearly seamlessly, he almost didn't have to think about it anymore. He watched the target pause by the window to reach into his pocket for his phone, and the expert bowman seized his opportunity. Glass shattered as Clint marked off another target.

"Well done." A male voice spoke from behind. Flawlessly, Clint spun around nocking another arrow before the intruder could blink. He hesitated before he let fired, and let the line go slack once he noticed his company was unarmed. Still, he refused to lower his bow. No telling what would happen within the next few minutes.

"Who are you?" Clint demanded as he slowly rose from his kneeling position.

"Better question… Why are you in Washington for a job that's only going to last you for two weeks? I mean with the way you buy that crappy Chinese food and plane tickets, this is pretty low standards for someone with your…skillset." The man said, not worried about the weapon aimed at his heart. Clint cocked his head to the side wondering just how long this man had been watching him but remained silent.

They continued to stare at one another, locked in a silent battle. Clint eased his features, settling into his 'sniper' look as he held his body perfectly still, knowing he could refuse to move for hours if necessary.

"I know I'm not going to win a staring contest against you, so might I ask you lower your weapon?" The man said, still not showing any fear of the weapon. _Odd. _Clint thought.

"Your name." Clint said in a clipped tone.

"Agent Phil Coulson. I work with S.H.I.E.L.D. Something you have probably never heard of, but I assure you it's real." Coulson said in a routine voice like he had said the very thing countless times.

"And?" Clint asked unamused.

"We would like to recruit you as an asset." Coulson explained.

"An asset." Clint lowered his bow and smirked. "What makes a 'big' agency like you want 'lil 'ol me?"

"Your skillset is required. We don't have many people who can take out a target three buildings away without some sort of scope." Coulson said peering over Clint's shoulder at the target's location, which was in fact a shot Coulson would have called impossible before seeing Barton.

"Why would I want to join S.H.I.E.L.D?" Clint asked almost curiously.

"We are an el-"

"I swear, if you say 'an elite organization who fights crime' or some bullshit like that you'll be dead before you finish your sentence." Clint interrupted.

Phil paused, "We stop the bad guys, we pay well and you won't have to live above a Chinese restaurant. We save lives Barton, innocent lives."

Clint scoffed. "Pay well? I've worked for the government, risking your life for them doesn't pay much at all."

"We aren't apart of any government. We just work with them when we have the same interests." Phil said with a small smile, like it was an inside joke.

"What makes you think I want to save anyone? What makes you think I care?" Clint asked seriously.

"Because you waited until the woman left the room to make the shot. She could have been there all night, yet you waited." Phil said. "You also hesitated to kill me. You're not a bad guy Barton, I don't know who along the way told you, you were. But you're just not. You just need a new direction."

"What if I say no?" Clint asked, blocking out his nightmarish memories. He gripped his bow in preparation for a fight, but didn't raise it any higher. Phil stood there, thoughtful for a second before he answered.

"You don't want to find out kid." Phil said and Clint raised his eyebrows at the implied threat.

"You can't stop me from leaving."

"I know, that's not what I meant." He said, his voice softer now. "If you don't chose to take this option, the only way out of this life, you're going to die. Somewhere, someday, there is going to be a hit that fights back. Someone will set you up or you'll have your back turned at the wrong second. And kid… I won't be the one behind you."

Clint stared at the man who was looking at him with such honesty, and he couldn't think of a reason to say no. He mulled over his choices, every option leading him to agreeing with the man. One day he would end up dead and he wouldn't be able to save himself. He opened his mouth to speak but caught himself. Phil saw his hesitation and spoke quickly.

"I can give you new intel on Gary Pointer. He's in South America right now, or he was as of this morning." Phil said. "After you finish training, we can help you track him down and he can be your first mission."

"When do I start?" Clint asked lowering his bow completely.

_So… How'd you like it? :D Huge thanks to my beta Kathryn Hart for looking over it for me! :D Review?_


	3. Anymore

**Anymore**

**1998-**

Clint tried to tell himself that he wasn't nervous. Even when his palms began sweating the closer the helicopter got to New York, he still kept lying to himself, saying that he wasn't nervous at all. He curiously glanced over at Phil and saw the man reading, acting as if bringing in a new asset everyday was something he did regularly. Clint narrowed his eyes realizing he hardly knew the man. He tensed and gripped his bow tighter as paranoia clawed at his insides. Screaming that this was a trap.

"Easy Barton." Phil said, never looking up from his book. "We'll be landing soon."

Clint didn't show his surprise, but did loosen his grip on the weapon. He turned away and looked out the small window and saw the emerging city beneath them as they made their way to the S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters in New York City.

"They're going to ask to take your weapons before you go and meet him." Phil said, closing his book as they felt the helicopter lower preparing to land.

"No." Clint said immediately. He didn't even look at Coulson, but he heard the man sigh.

"You're a lone operative whose intentions, could be to kill the director. There is no way they are going to allow you in the building with your weapons knowing your history." Phil said calmly. Clint could tell he wanted to avoid a fight, but there was no way he was going in there unarmed.

"I'm not after the director. I don't even know who he is."

"Nick Fury. Now you know." Phil said. "So are you going to hand over your bow and quiver, or not?"

"It's funny how you think I need them to kill you." Clint smirked at Phil who just rolled his eyes.

Clint glared at the man as the helicopter landed and looked out the window as agents filed out of the building. Phil stood up and motioned for Clint to follow him off the chopper. He held onto his bow as he jumped down and walked towards the building doors. He followed Phil inside, and looked around the hallways he was led down. People barely paid him any attention as he followed Phil, but he noticed a few looks lingered on his bow.

Sweat trickled down his neck as he thought of someone taking his bow. He hadn't been without her in almost two years. Not since he left the Marines. They finally stopped in front of a door and Phil turned to look at him.

"You have to give up your weapons now. I gave you permission to carry them in the building, but even that was a stretch." Phil looked over at one of the guards who had followed them. There were four in total, and Clint quickly calculated the odds of being able to take them all down. He didn't want to believe it, but he was probably outmatched since they could call for backup faster than he could find his way out of this maze.

Phil stayed quiet, watching the internal battle.

"No." Clint said as the guard grew impatient and began to reach for his bow. Clint took a quick step back and Phil didn't miss the way his hand twitched, wanting to grab an arrow.

"Agent Sim, step back." Phil said, trying to give Barton some room. He complied, but not without hesitation. "Barton, hand me your bow."

Clint shook his head and took another step back, cornering himself against the wall. The other agents grew twitchy and a few people were beginning to stare as they walked down the hallway. Phil took a step towards him and Clint drew and knocked an arrow faster than they could blink. Seconds later, four guns were pointed at his chest.

"Drop your weapons!" One of the men shouted next to Phil. Clint's eyes darted between the four men, as his fingers itched to release the string.

"What is going on out here?" A new voice asked. Clint looked over and on his left was a tall man in dark clothing with an eye patch covering his eye.

"We seem to be having a problem with our newest asset. He won't drop his weapons." Phil said reluctantly.

"Just bring them in so we can start the meeting already." Director Fury said, not even bothering to look at Barton and walked back into his office, leaving the door wide open. Phil looked to him and nodded for him to go in. Clint put the arrow back in his quiver and walked in the door quickly. Fury was sitting at his desk watching a computer screen and didn't speak until Phil had shut the door, leaving the four guards outside.

"So, you're Hawkeye?" Fury asked after a minute of silence, looking over at the young archer.

"And you're Director Fury." Clint said, raising an unamused eyebrow.

"Why are you here Barton." Fury asked getting straight down to business. Clint hesitated. _Because he didn't have anywhere else to go? He was tired of Chinese food?_ He wasn't sure, so he decided to just tell the truth.

"I was in the Marines for two years. Trained in the Scout Sniper program, I passed and started going on missions. After months of training to even be qualified, after weeks of getting to know and understand how my new teammates worked, we were betrayed on our third mission. Our Intel was crap and I still don't know how three of us out of the ten survived. We had actually joined with another team and only one of my teammates survived." Clint explained. "I've been hunting the man responsible ever since and I won't rest until he pays for what happened."

"And why does that bring you here?" Fury asked.

"Because you and this organization can help me get closer to my goal."

"And what happens when you find him? You'll leave?" Fury asked, his voice becoming harder.

"No sir." Clint said. "I want to find him and make him pay, and then I just want to be done. I don't want to be in the past anymore. I was to do something…better." Clint's voice nearly broke. "I have been a hit man long enough to know that I scratched off a few innocents. People who didn't deserve to die and I can't take that back. I want to try to wipe out some of this red in my ledger and this organization is the best way I know how."

Fury stared at him for a moment then nodded. "So what are your conditions?"

Clint raised his eyebrow in confusion. "My conditions?"

"What do you want out of this? Pay? Benefits? Health care? Dental?" Fury explained, waving his hand in the air expressively.

"I can pick my pay?" Clint asked.

"It has to be within region. Most new agents, they get starting pay, but you're an asset. You will complete missions that go higher up than what they will ever experience. So essentially, you give us a number and we tell you if it's doable. And as you advance in your clearance level, you are also given a raise. It's not a whole lot, but the better job you do, the better your raise."

Clint looked to the ground in thought, then glanced up at Fury with a careful expression. "I want to start out with as much as other agents. Or with as little, I should say."

"At the same pay rate?" Fury asked, surprised evident on his face.

"Yes." Clint said. "With one condition. I get a Quinjet." Fury threw his head back and laughed for a long minute.

"You aren't getting a jet." Fury chuckled when his laughter subsided. Clint smiled, expecting the reaction but noticed Coulson stayed quiet.

"Do you want to know why you are going to give me a Quinjet, Director?" Clint said with a shit-eating smile on his face. He didn't give Fury a second to answer before continuing. "Because I can do something no one else on this earth can." He walked up to Fury's desk, picking up a black pen and walked over to Fury's beige wall. He made a small 'x' in five random spots on the wall and walked to the other side of the room.

As Clint turned, he raised his bow and nocked an arrow. Before he finished turning, two arrows were flying through the air, three following in quick pursuit. As he saw his last arrow leave the string, he grabbed another and aimed it at the notepad on Fury's desk. He released it and watched Fury jump back in his seat as the arrow lodged in the pad inches from his hand. Clint quietly lowered his bow and looked dead serious at the Director.

"Two point five seconds is all I need to send an arrow in your heart, and Agent Coulson's. I would need less than twelve seconds to kill all four men outside that door." Clint said, pointing to the door behind him. "Less than twenty if they were prepared beforehand. Director, I am a solider and I follow orders. I will be loyal to S.H.I.E.L.D. but I won't join if I don't get a Quinjet."

"Am I supposed to be impressed? You think we don't have snipers here who are just as good as you are?" Fury demanded, rising from his chair. "You think I can't just throw you back on the streets?! Give me one good reason to give you a Quinjet."

"I know you can Sir." Clint said taking on a more respectful tone, wishing he had dialed it down a bit but not regretting anything. "I'm sure you have other skilled agents, but I. Never. Miss."

"Barton, in the future, don't ever shoot an arrow at me again." Fury said in a stern voice then chuckled. "Okay, you'll get your jet. Just give me some time on it."

"She'll be mine, in my name and in my own hanger Sir. I can't risk having anyone else fly her." Clint said, hating to keep going but needing it to be clear.

"Done." Fury said, his voice making it clear that Clint and Phil were now dismissed. Coulson led Clint out of the room and shut it behind them.

"I can't believe you're alive, kid." Phil said with half-smile. 

"To be honest, neither can I."

_Once again, thanks to Kathryn Hart for being a great beta! And hope you enjoyed this chapter! Review?_


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